The air down in section 55-Tertius of the smelled different than the dank, filthy squalor of the rest of the underhive. There was an aggressively cleanliness to it, a chemical taste at the back of Cervantes’ mouth that spoke to the presence of antibacterial agents, counterseptic regimens and antiviral compounds. The rows of tanks, filled with glimmering green fluid, filled the entire place with an unearthy viridian glow that shone brightly against the polished white stone of the place. On Inquisitor Zao’s orders, this section of the underhive had been sequestered as storage facility with which to stockpile medical supplies. In a time of war, such as this, it would be imperative to keep vital medical supplies out of reach of a displaced, scavenging populace, so that proper triage and treatement protocols could be enacted when it was safe to do so.
Unfortunately, this place was anything but secure…especially now that there were wolves lurking in the shadows.
The catacombs stank. Thousands of years ago, they had been used to channel the waste effluent of the Invernus’ manufactoria out into the rad-wastes beyond the hive city, though they had long since been abandoned and closed off. Even after those millennia, however, the chemical reek of the place and the stench of decay persisted, even through the filters of Watch-Sergeant Cervantes’ helmet. No one had been down here since that time, not even scavvers of the underhive or the reclamation servitors of the manufactoria.
Which meant, of course, that it was the perfect place for xenos to infiltrate the city.
So, a few days ago I took a break from testing out the Sisters and took my Drukhari to one of my LGS, Hairy Tarantula North, for a 1000 point 40k tournament using ITC rules. As this was the first tournament I had been attending in ages, I was rather apprehensive. As it turned out, however, all of my apprehension was for nothing: with only three or four tables, the store was completely unprepared for the massive turnout they ended up recieving, and as a result spots went to the first people to arrive. Sadly, I was not one of them.
So lately, it feels like writing has become something of a Sisyphean task for me. It’s not so much that writing itself is all that difficult: if anything, I’ve found that I’ve had more to say, and more energy with which to write it. The problem is, lately it feels like the things that I want to do are vastly outstripping the time with which I have/want to do them.
So, this afternoon I discovered that Rene Auberjonois, the actor who played Constable Odo in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, died at the age of 79. As a lifelong Trekkie, am quite saddened by this news: Odo was without a doubt one of my favourite characters in Deep Space Nine, a diligent and meticulous detective who valued order and stability in all things, and, as seemingly the only member of his species, was constantly trying to figure out who he was and where he had come from (a question that would be answered to horrifying effect in the later seasons). The fact, of course, that he was a shape-shifting alien who often used his innate ability to imaginative effect made him all the more cool a character in my mind, as was the fact that he was a solitary lawman on what was essentially a frontier space station full of dangerous and shifty people.
Rene Auberjonois gave Odo a persistent gruff, cranky grumble that made it seem like he was constantly annoyed by everything around him, while still giving Odo a dry wit that allowed him to engaging in wonderfully sarcastic banter with characters like Quark. As the series went on, Odo grew more as a character, and I got to see him evolve from a gruff lawman to an entity going through the pains of self-discovery, love and loss, and conflicting loyalties. He was a memorable character whose actor did a great job of letting him grow and be memorable.